


Timeline

by WalkingDictionary (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Series: Criminal Minds from FFN [4]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Major character death - Freeform, Rape of a Minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/WalkingDictionary
Summary: Jack Hotchner's graduation. This is how he got there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing regarding Criminal Minds; I just thought it would be interesting to write a fic set in the future dealing with a tragedy that befalls Jack Hotchner. The spoilers range from season 1 through season 5, because that is the last season I watched extensively.
> 
> Warning: While this fiction is not particularly explicit, there is mention of rape. It's a Criminal Minds story, which should explain everything. If at all you are disturbed during the reading of this story, please let me know and I will send apologies. Also, make no mistake: there is character death in this story. You have been warned.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> (Original disclaimer and warning that appeared on post)

\- 1 -

**5/19/2023**

 

Jack Hotchner waits patiently for his name to be called, but time seems to stand still while his anxiety grows.

 

There are several chairs lined up in neat rows. People fill these chairs, some in white or black robes and others in nice clothes. This is a happy ceremony and yet Jack can't feel happy. Something deep and fundamental is missing. His best friend isn't here.

 

Many of his classmates have already climbed the stairs and crossed the stage. Many remain, lined up neatly like they'd been instructed the day they'd been let out. Jack's turn is nearing. And still he feels an eerie emptiness at his accomplishment.

 

White columns have been set up so that the small courtyard is surrounded. It is supposed to be charming and beautiful, but it invokes a feeling of previously unknown claustrophobia in Jack's chest.

_Deep breaths._

 

He glances around quickly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person who used to say those words to him during his panic attacks. A sudden burst of applause breaks his concentration and he focuses instead on the proud family members waiting for the students to march across the stage.

 

His own father and the remaining members of the BAU, retired and current, are watching him. Unit Chief Derek Morgan is recording the graduation for Jack's father, to be catalogued with the home movies of his mom.

 

Thoughts of his mother always lead back to the way things were instead of how they are now. It hurts. It hurts really bad. His mom died protecting him. His dad killed to protect him. And yet, he was not protected. Not until  _he_  helped him.

 

Something twists in Jack's chest. A return of the claustrophobia, perhaps? No, something that feels more like how he used to feel when his dad told him to grow up when he misbehaved.

 

In a strange sense, Jack finally feels grown up now, standing in the semi-open stands outside under the blue sky in his black gown with his cap, tassel on the left, and the gold braid of honor hanging off his shoulders. In his pocket his speech weighs heavy, as does the series of photographs in an envelope with the speech.

 

As it comes closer to his time, Jack feels terror overwhelm him. He's never done anything like this before. He should have practiced more. He glances around panicked, catching his father's eye, but not the eye of the most important person to him.

_It's okay, it'll be all right._

 

"Jack Hotchner." There is no more time. Taking a deep breath, Jack marches across the stage, head held like his dad taught him. He reaches out, right hand to shake the principal's, left to accept the black book containing a piece of paper.

 

He smiles brightly when the cameras flash, smiles too tightly. His face will surely break if he has to keep smiling.  _He_  would be proud.

 

He returns to his seat, remains standing while the rest of his class graduates. Time flies by now that he has finished with the first leg of this tortuous journey.

 

He barely notices Morgan waving the camera at him or his father applauding silently, both waiting for what must come soon. The panic returns suddenly.

_Deep breaths._

 

And then his name is called again. His heart stutters, but he imagines that someone pats him reassuringly on the back. Has  _he_ finally arrived?

 

"And now a few words from your valedictorian, Jack Hotchner."

 

Applause. Fear. His stomach twists.

_It's okay, it'll be all right._

 

The climb is harder the second time, and Jack picks each step carefully. He cannot fail now, not with the support of an imagined touch.

 

He stands in front of the podium, spreads out the pictures and the pages of his speech. He briefly touches the locket around his throat, looks out into the crowd and finally finds  _him_.

 

"This speech is dedicated to…"

 

\- 2 -

**6/16/2015**

 

Jack Hotchner is playing quietly. His dad is in the study, yelling at someone.

 

"Damn it, Dave, you can't leave like that. Like him."

 

Who's him?

 

The house is empty except for the two of them. His friend is supposed to stop by, see if they can go to the arcade at the mall later. His dad is expecting someone later. They are going to move again. They keep downsizing and upgrading ever since Jack's mom died.

 

Unexpectedly, Spencer Reid drops to the floor in front of the ten year old boy. "Want to see a magic trick?" Jack doesn't particularly care to; he's seen all of his surrogate uncle's lame tricks, but he likes spending time with Spencer. He is shown a quarter and then Spencer closes his hand.

 

"Sure," Jack pretends not to notice that Spencer has palmed the quarter to his other hand, waits patiently while Spencer runs through a series of Latin words that make no sense—he asked Dave for a translation.

 

When the hand in which the quarter "disappeared" from is opened, Jack is surprised to see a locket. Spencer offers it to him and Jack takes it carefully. The metal is warm from Spencer's hand and the chain feels like liquid running through his fingers.

 

"It was my mom's," Spencer says quietly, looking up when Dad enters the room angrily. Everyone used to say his dad had no emotions, now Jack wants them to stop saying that he's going off the deep end.

 

"Rossi retired." Dad glares at them. Jack is saddened to see that Spencer is no longer happy or thoughtful. He looks like his favorite TV show was canceled.

 

"Is he going to say goodbye?"

 

Dad avoids Spencer's eyes, instead focusing on the locket still dangling from Jack's fingers.

 

"What the hell is this?" He grabs it and shoves it under Spencer's nose. "What the hell are you trying to do to my son?"

 

Spencer doesn't answer. He grabs the locket and leaves. No words, no sounds. His absence hurts Jack's heart.

 

Jack spends an hour waiting for Spencer to come back. His dad spends the hour waiting for Jack to give up on Spencer.

 

Finally, frustrated that Spencer has not returned, Jack runs outside. He plans on running away. Well, not exactly. One can't be a runaway unless one doesn't know the destination. It does not matter to Jack that Spencer's apartment is almost four miles from his dad's house. He'll make it.

 

As he passes a white van, he is grabbed and dragged inside. The acceleration occurs before the doors can quite be shut, and his last view of the outside world is of his father chasing after the van, yelling.

 

Inside the van, it is dirty and a man is screaming at him. Jack barely understands the words being thrown at him due to the force of them and the anger choking the thick accent.

 

"I own you now! If your daddy wants you back, he can have you in pieces!"

 

Jack isn't truly terrified—he still thinks that Spencer or his father will rescue him—until the man uses a knife to cut his shirt. His pants join his shirt on the floor. What if the man kills him, like the little boy Jack once saw in a folder his dad was looking at?

 

He doesn't understand what the man wants when he tells him to lie on his stomach, and he doesn't really understand why a deep, burning the pain follows. He cries, tries to get the man to stop, but nothing he says has any effect on the man other than to cause him to slap him repeatedly.

 

Jack doesn't feel like the brave ten year old Emily told him he was on his last birthday. He feels like the small five year old who heard his mother die.

 

He spends the majority of his captivity either under the man, who continues to whisper things about his dad having to get him in pieces, or curled in a corner trying to keep a hold on the faces of his family and friends. He dreams constantly that he'll be rescued, but no one ever bursts through the door, and no one ever stops the man from taking what he wants.

 

One day the man wraps his hands around Jack's throat, choking him until he falls unconscious. Jack knows that this is the day he will die. He tries to say goodbye to everyone he can think of, but he blacks out before finishing.

 

\- 3 -

**5/5/2023**

 

It's been a long journey and Spencer Reid is tired. The man holding him hostage has finally cracked.

 

"I'll kill you before they get you," he mutters, tightening his grip on Reid's neck. "You'll be dead before they can have you."

 

He has tried arguing, bargaining, and tricking the man. All he has to show for it are cuts that will never have the time to heal. Reid doesn't want to fight anymore. He wants to let go. Dehydration from his medication helped lead to his capture, but he's not entirely certain he wants it any other way. Maybe it's better that he won't have the chance to tell his colleagues about his illness.

 

He's been able to hide his schizophrenia for the past few years, but what happens when he progresses to the point of his mother? To the point of suicide to save herself and others from the vicious voices in her head?

 

Her locket is cool against the skin of his throat. It reminds him of the pages slipped into a young man's backpack—his will. Why he gave it to Jack is simple. He's worked extensively with Hotch's son, providing a mentorship that shall be honored even in event of his death.

 

Jack is the only one who knows that Spencer's mind is deteriorating. The only one who knows the terror he goes through each day just trying to keep some semblance of being normal. The only one he trusts. That must be why Jack returned the locket the last time they'd seen each other.

 

"You hear me? I'll kill you."

 

Reid doesn't care anymore. He is tired of fighting life. His only regret right now is not saying goodbye to Jack before leaving on this trip. Maybe Jack will forgive him. Maybe he'll forgive himself.

 

"Did you hear me?" The man shakes him, inadvertently digging the knife into Reid's back as he clutches him roughly.

 

The door bursts open before Reid can reply, and he feels disappointed as Morgan, Prentiss, a new kid named Thomas, and another old veteran, Elle, crowd into the room, guns aimed at his captor—and him.

 

"Put the knife down, now," Morgan orders in a voice less calm than what Reid remembers. "Put it down now."

 

Reid almost smiles as the knife is placed against his throat.

 

He's ready for the demands to begin, but he knows exactly what the man wants: the bloody marks on his face and torso; the deep wound in his side; the man wants him dead. No, actually, the man needs him dead, needs him to haunt him only in his dreams—which will be short: a trial, jail time, and lethal injection.

 

"Did you hear me?" the man whispers in Reid's ear. The knife traces the curve of his neck, caressing him in a manner that is more chilling than all of his high school classmates bullying him.

 

"Put the knife down!" Morgan yells again. Elle and Emily are edging off to the sides, advancing slowly while Thomas and Morgan distract the man with a couple of quick steps toward him.

 

"I remember my first attempt at killing." Reid can feel the man's smile as they step back again. The room is huge, with dimensions Reid isn't sure it should have. Each wall is long, maybe a hundred feet, and there is open space behind them. Emily and Elle are trying to get into that space. "Stop moving!" the man digs the knife into Reid's throat, giggling as blood trickles down onto his collar.

 

Reid leans back into the man suddenly, knocking him off balance and affording himself an attempt to move.

 

"Jack Hotchner." Reid freezes and the man is able to grab him again. "My first attempt was Jack Hotchner."

 

\- 4 -

**6/30/2015**

 

Jack Hotchner has been discarded, thrown away like trash. The agonies he suffered at the hands of a maniacal man have scarred him, maybe might even kill him. He has been strangled to the point of brain damage—motor skills, it seems—and several burns and cuts mar his skin. Not to mention the burning pain in his lower body. What did the man do to him?

 

The one who finds him is Spencer. Why?

 

Maybe it's for the best; Spencer is gentle and careful, almost as if he knows what the man has done. Maybe Jack should ask him if he does know.

 

"What's happened?" The words slur, mangled by his inability to control his speech. He was deprived of air too long. Like the little boy his father was investigating a couple of years ago. He whimpers thinking about the picture he'd seen of a seven year old boy with his stomach cut open, eyes wide and scared. He doesn't want to be the little boy his father is too late to save.

 

Spencer rubs his arm, drawing his attention away from a dark hole that is opening in his chest, "It's okay, it'll be all right." He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over Jack's bare torso. The warmth is immediate and Jack sighs softly.

 

He finally feels secure for the first time since he last saw Spencer. Then a sudden crescendo of sirens creates confusion for Jack. Why is the air filled with loud sounds and bright lights? Spencer holds him a little tighter, standing up and calling out, "We're here!"

 

The lights and the sirens hurt Jack's ears and eyes and he wants it all to stop. He closes his eyes. "Show me a magic trick," he whispers into the soft material of Spencer's shirt. What was Spencer doing before he found him? It's important for Jack to know that he didn't interrupt Spencer's routine, that Spencer wants to help him.

 

He tries to open his eyes again, but his eyelids won't cooperate. Why can't he open them again? "I can't see."

 

"One, two, three," something soft brushes against Jack's eyelids. A sudden thought occurs to him as Spencer's finger traces a line down his cheek: Where is his dad?

 

"See?" Spencer lifts Jack gently as other voices ebb around him. "You can wake up now." And Jack finally does get his eyes to work properly, staring at the frightened face of his surrogate uncle.

 

"Why do I hurt?"

 

"Shh, shh," Spencer doesn't seem to know what to say, and that scares Jack less than it should. "Your dad will meet us at the hospital." He brushes his hand through Jack's hair, watching every flinch, every wince. He helps the paramedics strap Jack to a gurney, his jacket still securely wrapped around him.

 

"Where'm clothes?"

 

"What injuries can you see?" Spencer's hand stays on Jack's shoulder. A paramedic lists them off as the ambulance jerks forward, beginning its race to the hospital. "Jack?"

 

Jack is sleepy. He watches the lights on the ceiling swirl into different colors. His chest feels tight and his stomach feels sick. He doesn't want to respond, doesn't want the paramedic to hear how he can't talk very good anymore. Spencer seems to understand, rubbing soothing circles on the shoulder he still rests his hand on.

 

"I noticed that his words were slurred and that he had a little trouble talking. The bruises on his throat indicate strangulation, which leads me to the conclusion that he is possibly suffering from—"

 

Jack tones him out, eyes closing as his breathing evens out. He decides that he'll tell his dad he loves him the next time he sees him.

\- 5 -

**5/5/2023**

 

Spencer Reid faces his colleagues, his friends. Over and over, under his breath, he chants, "It's okay, it'll be all right."

 

He smiles then, having convinced himself that his life has run its course and there is nothing left for him to do. He has no more business to attend to.

 

The man notices Emily before she can fully get behind him, turning sideways and pressing the knife harder against Reid's neck. Emily tenses slightly, and Reid knows that Elle has her gun aimed at the man's body. If she misses, she'll hit either Reid or Emily. The man tenses too. Either he feels the gun trained on him, or he realizes that Emily is afraid of something. He turns quickly, slamming his back against the wall that he has steadily made his way toward. Reid jerks with the impact, the knife slicing through the skin of his neck. Morgan makes a sound in the back of his throat, and rushes forward, stopping only when the knife is shoved deep into Reid's stomach.

 

Thomas looks sick. Emily whimpers. Morgan hisses. Elle swears. Reid sighs. And the man laughs. "I'll gut him and cut his throat before any of you decide to shoot me."

 

The standoff begins. Everyone stares everyone else down until Thomas throws up, providing Reid with another attempt to escape. He jerks, sliding down the man's body. Before he is free, the man pulls him up, yanking the knife from his abdomen and placing it against his neck again.

 

"I'll kill you." The whisper is warm against his ear, and the voices in his head take up the cry.

_I'll kill you,_ one sings while another hisses the three words. His medication is wearing off. He won't be able to be himself for much longer. Better that the man kill him before his friends and colleagues discover the truth. Or so he tries to tell himself.

 

Blood, warm and wet, spills down his shirt, his legs, his feet, pools under him. He knows he hasn't lost quite that much blood yet, it's just that his mind is paranoid with unfamiliar situations. The feel of the blood is worse than the thought of bleeding, even though his stomach burns where the knife had been.

_I'll kill you_ , the voices clamor again, threatening him for being in this situation, for being schizophrenic.  _I'll kill you_.

 

"Are you listening to me?" the man shakes him again, giggling as the knife digs a little deeper. "Are you paying attention?"

 

"Let him go," Morgan tries again, desperation choking him. Emily prays silently, and Reid watches her lips move, seeing the words of a prayer for the dead cross her tongue. So she knows too. Emily's always been best at compartmentalizing their job.

 

"It's okay," he tells the others, because he knows they don't have the acceptance Emily appears to have. The knife against his throat slashes deep and hard, the man finally carries out his threat. "It'll be all right." He falls to the floor, blood gushing from his neck.

 

He does not hear Morgan shoot his captor.

 

He doesn't hear his friends screaming.

 

He doesn't hear them grieving.

 

He doesn't hear anything, a silence seeping from within to break the occupants of the small dungeon.

 

He smiles, letting the end of his life flow away with the rivulets of blood running from his damaged throat.

 

And then Spencer Reid dies.

\- 6 -

**5/19/2023**

 

Jack Hotchner clears his throat—a nervous habit he picked up from  _him_ —and begins again, stronger. "This speech is dedicated to Dr. Spencer Reid of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Dr. Reid was killed in the line of duty two weeks ago.

 

"He dedicated his life to helping people. He helped me. When I was ten, I was kidnapped by a man bent on revenge on my father. They found me two weeks later, beaten and tortured so extensively no one was sure I'd survive, except two people: my father and Dr. Reid.

 

"Seventy percent of people suffering from injuries as severe as mine die within forty-eight hours of being rescued. After successful surgery, those odd increase by fifteen percent. Dr. Reid told me I had a hundred percent chance of recovery after my surgery.

 

"I looked up those odds and found out he lied. I wasn't doing well at all and my chance of surviving was at less than twenty percent. It was the first time he successfully lied to me. And it was just what I needed. His lie gave me the strength to recover.

 

"Then came the next blow. I suffered too much brain damage to effectively learn in school. When all my teachers decided to give up on me, my father knew exactly who could help me. Dr. Reid created the special education program that is currently in effect at this high school.

 

"He spent as much time as he could working on lesson plans and methods of teaching them. He was supposed to retire after I graduated and take a full time teaching position here. He will be missed by everyone.

 

"Because of his commitment to this school and the betterment of the education of all students, the school board has decided to expand the library and its special education programs in the name of Dr. Spencer Reid.

 

"Dr. Reid was taken too soon, and yet his accomplishments live on through the legacies he has left. I am living proof of his humanity. Without Dr. Reid's belief in me, I would not be giving this speech right now.

 

"So, in memory of Spencer Reid, I will tell one of the stories he used to tell to his godson and myself:

 

"Once upon a time there was a kingdom in which the king decreed that no one person should have more knowledge than he himself. Well, in this kingdom, as must always be in such stories like this, there were two young men named Henry and Jack who had much more knowledge than the king.

 

"The king learned of these young men—which is ironic since the person to inform him knew more about them than the king did—and decided instead of the usual punishment of locking people who disobeyed his laws in a dungeon named 'bedtime,' he would meet with these knowledgeable young men.

 

"Henry was frightened of the king since he had heard many, many tales of cruelty that stemmed from 'bedtime,' but Jack was more than brave enough for both of them, especially since he had been in 'bedtime' before and had found it pleasant enough.

 

"Well, for many nights Jack and Henry entertained the king with things he had never known before, like mac and cheese, pillow fights, and the king's favorite, hide and seek. By the time the king had decided upon a punishment for the young men, he realized that his law was ridiculous, and he needed to punish himself for his ignorance.

 

"He sentenced himself to 'bedtime,' but Henry and Jack were sad that their new friend would be lonely and decided to join him in his punishment.

 

"Dr. Reid used this story to keep Henry from being scared of the dark, and later he used it to help me recover from my brain damage. But the story had a deeper meaning than what he told our parents. He was the king who condemned people without knowing them because they were 'better' than he was, and by taking care of us, he learned how not to do that. From his examples, I have learned to be a kind and just person. Thank you, Spencer."

 

He stands absolutely still for a few seconds, blinded by tears. Then one person starts clapping.

 

The applause grows deafening, although Jack is certain most of the people are clapping because he is finally done talking. He glances out into the crowd again and catches  _his_ eye. He nods slightly before gathering his photographs and passing them out to the members of the special education classes.

 

He walks proudly to where his father is waiting. "I'm proud of you." Dad is choking back tears and Morgan trains the camera on them. Jack is hugged nearly half to death before he can break free. His friends all say their goodbyes—Jack knows he'll never see them again—and then the only one left is  _him_.

 

Spencer Reid doesn't say anything.

 

\- 7 -

**7/14/2016**

 

Spencer Reid sits at a table, head resting on the cool wood, a pile of books surrounding him. Jack Hotchner watches from the doorway. He is mad. Mad at Spencer for falling asleep. Mad at his dad for firing the woman who helped with the chores he still can't do. Mad at himself for not being fixed a year after "The Ordeal."

 

Spencer tells him every day that he is getting better, but Jack knows better is not perfect. He wants to run like the other boys, he wants to play outside like Henry, he wants to go to the beach with Penelope and Emily while they help Spencer have fun.

 

He wants his dad to say "I love you" and feed him ice cream and tell him everything's going to be okay, like he did shortly after "The Ordeal." He wants to be a little boy again.

 

Around his neck, the locket that belonged to Spencer's mother swings as he shifts from foot to foot. The motion, of his body, of the locket, soothes him. Jack wants to see a magic trick now that he doesn't feel the white hot rage of uncontrollable fear and anger climbing his chest so he tickles Spencer's nose.

 

Spencer jolts awake, blinking rapidly at Jack as if not really seeing him. He stares at his hands, lifting them and watching them shake. Jack waits patiently, still shifting from foot to foot. Spencer will come around. He's done it before.

 

"Look," Spencer says, still staring at his trembling hands. "It's getting worse."

 

"What is?" Jack jumps slightly. He's never spoken this clearly before. Spencer notices it too. He stands up, holding his arms out. Jack is uncertain what he is supposed to do.

 

A few moments pass before he moves forward. He receives a hug unlike any his dad gives him. Instead of squeezing him like he's holding on for dear life, Spencer barely touches him. He can feel Spencer's whole body shaking. What's wrong?

 

" _We will get you where you need to go, you and me,"_  Spencer had told him the day he had thrown a fit over not being able to dress himself. Three months later, Spencer only had to readjust the Velcro straps on his shoes and straighten the collar of his shirt. Now it's Jack's turn to offer Spencer help.

 

"Whatever is wrong, whatever is getting worse, I'll help you through."

 

Spencer pulls a coin from behind Jack's ear, but his fingers shake so hard, Jack sees it coming and can feel the edge of the quarter brush his cheek as it passes. "I think I want you to carry on my legacy of physics-magic," Spencer says. "I'm not going to be around forever, and I think it's time you moved onto something more interesting than your physical therapy."

 

"I don't have to use weights anymore?"

 

"You'll still have therapy, but learning magic might help you learn to fine tune the exercises from the weight lifting."

 

Then Spencer pats the seat next to the one he had fallen asleep in. "But, first we'll work on some of your language skills. It's wonderful that you are speaking clearly now."

 

Jack lifts the quarter from Spencer's palm. He does not want to read from books on this late afternoon. He wants to run outside and play in the sprinkler like Henry and his mother are doing. He wants a popsicle, a grape one to turn his mouth purple, like Henry. He wants to be smart, like Henry.

 

Spencer stares at him expectantly, waiting for Jack to respond to the stack of books.

 

"I want to be Henry." The quarter rolls off his fingers and clinks onto the floor. Jack refuses to look at Spencer. "I don't want to be me anymore."

 

For a moment, Spencer doesn't speak.

 

Then, "If you're Henry, who's going to be Henry's hero?" Jack looks up. He can't tell if Spencer is pulling his leg. Why would  _he_  be Henry's hero?

 

Suddenly, it doesn't matter to Jack why he's a hero to his almost-cousin. What matters is that of all the people in the world, like Henry's mom or dad, or Jack's dad, or Spencer, he, Jack, is Henry's hero. And if studying makes him a hero, then he'd better do more of it.

 

"Every time I get one right, teach me a magic trick," Jack picks up the quarter, turning it over in his hand, feeling the ridges and the raised images carefully before setting it down in front of Spencer. He wants to learn magic tricks to make Spencer happy, and maybe magic will make him a hero to Spencer, too.

 

"Deal." Spencer opens one of the books, reading a passage. When Jack repeats it back to him perfectly without tripping over the words or stuttering over hard consonants, Spencer closes the book, marking it carefully so Jack can find it again later, and picks up the quarter, rolling it between his long fingers. "To make small objects disappear…"

 

\- 8 -

**5/20/2023**

 

Jack Hotchner stands at a fresh grave without a headstone. Yet. There are provisions in Spencer's will for this. There is also a considerable amount of money to help Jack attend the college of his choice and to help Henry go to CalTech. Why Henry is dead set on that particular college, Jack knows, is because that's the college both his godparents attended.

 

Jack can't make it in college, at least, not without Spencer to guide him. His father volunteered, but it's just not the same. If he could do it himself, and Spencer would spend hours reassuring him and giving him statistics about it, he'd go to CalTech too.

 

A wind blows across Jack's face, ruffling the flowers he is holding and his hair. Ever since Spencer finally convinced his dad, Jack has been growing it. He plans to do what most other guys would be embarrassed to do: donate over a foot of hair to Locks of Love. Spencer did it once, too. And he was teased relentlessly by Morgan and Prentiss, but both agreed it was a wonderful gesture on Spencer's part.

 

Sometimes the BAU members act more like children than the children of the BAU members did. For instance, once, JJ, Henry's mother, threw a fit because her favorite perfume was discontinued. When Henry's favorite TV show was canceled, he took it upon himself to finish out the series with scripts. Ten years old and he submitted his first screenplay to a director.

 

Another breeze shakes Jack out of his thoughts and he remembers why he has come here. He kneels on the grave, places the bundle of forget-me-nots at the marker.

 

They seem insignificant compared to the other floral bouquets covering the overturned dirt, but these are Spencer's favorite, none of the others are. Spencer liked the implications of the name. He would always bring Jack one whenever he visited, whispering, "Don't forget," as he tucked the flowers into whatever nook he could find.

 

The feeling of a hand hovering over his shoulder makes Jack look up. Beside him, looking for all intents and purposes—the mind is a funny thing, Spencer once told him—like he did when he tried to give Jack his mom's locket is Spencer Reid. Jack scrambles to his feet, embraces Spencer in a less than satisfying hug.

 

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to give your eulogy at your funeral." It needed to be said, but Jack wishes he could keep all his words to himself so that he can evaluate them before being judged by people. He feels like he's been judged all day.

 

"Don't worry about it, you did beautifully." He should have known Spencer wouldn't do that to him. Spencer never does—did that. It makes the necessary question easier to ask.

 

"Why'd you have to die?"

 

"The UnSub wanted to show that he was stronger than the FBI."

 

"No," Jack shakes his head, takes Spencer's hand to make him understand, ignores that he can touch his friend only if he doesn't think about it. "Why did you  _have_  to die?"

 

"It was time," Spencer pulls back, folds his arms over his chest. "You and I both know it was a merciful killing even if it was very violent."

 

They stand in silence, Jack contemplating the ground and the sky while Spencer watches him carefully. It hasn't rained in nearly two weeks. In fact, the last day it rained was Spencer's funeral. Soon dust will be carried by the wind, like so many discarded thoughts.

 

"You have to let me go," Spencer says suddenly.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because, if you don't, you could end up in a mental hospital." That was Spencer's greatest fear—to be just like his mom.

 

"What if I don't want to, at least, not right now?" Jack is ten years old again, playing quietly while his father yells at random people. But this time, both are ready for mental breakdowns, instead of just his dad.

 

"Then I'll leave when you're ready for me to go," Spencer kneels down, wraps his arms around Jack to take him down too. "You are strong. You'll get through this."

 

"Show me a magic trick."

 

Spencer touches the flowers Jack left, traces their shape. "You've seen all my tricks. Why don't you show me one?"

 

And Jack does, making a small forget-me-not appear behind Spencer's ear. "It works better with a coin."

 

"That's okay, it was performed beautifully." Spencer reaches out, fingers ghosting over the locket Jack never takes off. "Go to CalTech. You'll make it."

 

~ The End ~

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Some grammatical rules have been ignored in favor of capturing the voice of a scared ten-year-old boy suffering from brain damage.
> 
> (Originally appeared on Chapter Four)
> 
> **Emily's Prayer for the Dead**  
>  God our Father  
> Your power brings us to birth,  
> Your providence guides our lives,  
> and by Your command we return to dust  
> Lord, those who die still live in Your presence,  
> their lives change but do not end.  
> I pray in hope for my family,  
> relatives and friends,  
> and for all the dead known to You alone.  
> In company with Christ,  
> Who died and now lives,  
> may they rejoice in Your kingdom,  
> where all our tears are wiped away.  
> Unite us together again in one family,  
> to sing Your praise forever and ever.  
> Amen.
> 
> (Originally appeared on Chapter 5)
> 
>  
> 
> Briefly edited to fix grammatical errors. Nothing in the way of the story was changed.
> 
> Link to original post: [Timeline](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6708127/1/Timeline)


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